


I work in a creepy antique store.

by Skywolf1314



Category: Original Work
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-13
Updated: 2019-06-13
Packaged: 2020-05-07 10:08:01
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 983
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19207198
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skywolf1314/pseuds/Skywolf1314
Summary: I think its haunted but no-one believes me.





	I work in a creepy antique store.

July 30 aka story one: A new job and a new thing I now have nightmares about.

Aka aka: The old man and the creepy music box.

I’m writing this down because no-one seems to believe me about the crazy shit I see at my job. Like seriously. Its crazy.

For about a week now I have been working in an old antique shop as a sales assistant, that roughly translates to, I waste nine hours of my life a day for a shitty five pounds fifteen. Anything to keep me busy I guess? That’s what my mum said as she kicked me out the door on my first day, I didn’t want to work because its summer and who wants to work over the summer? Who wants to even go out and speak to people let alone serve them?

The only people I wanted to see were the ones between the pages of my book, the book that has been staring at me all term, just waiting for me to pick it up and adventure between its pages.  Alas as the ongoing saga of ‘Meg’s summer of hell’ continues, I was forced right up to the rotten red door with the creepy gargoyle door knocker and the hideous grime covered brass handle.

I contemplated walking straight past but the owner had already spotted me. I winced, trying my best to duck out of his view but for an old man he was deceitfully perceptive.  He smiled as he pulled the door open, hobbling a little as the weight of it strained against him. I smiled awkwardly back, wiping my hands on the tatted MCR shirt I had on (Yes, I know they’ve been broken up for three years and I know I’m approaching the age that being Emo is kinda…Creepy? But I’m not ready to move on so keep your opinions to yourself.) and offered it to the man.

He grasped it with enthusiasm, far more that what I would have expected from someone so…ancient and dutifully dragged me inside. The place stunk of damp and age, like what you would smell if you walked into an old people’s home or a crept. Every single shelf had something for you to look at, whether it be phones from the twenties or chalk statues of kissing boys and pretty girls, there was always something. I was quite fond of the all array of old clothing he had on a small rail in one of the many _many_ rooms, they seemed to be ball gowns and dresses from god knows where but they were pretty in a simplistic way. Kinda like something a hippy would wear.

“I understand you haven’t had a job before?” The man asked as he took to the desk, that too was covered in trinkets and jewellery, there was even a small kids guitar leaning against the rickety old chair. I had the sun-bleached image of SpongeBob on its face so my scepticism of it being an antique was quite high.  Seeing things like that though kinda make me wonder what antique stores will look like in the next hundred years. Would SpongeBob be a great relic of the twenty-first century? Would things like mobile phones and iPads be some ancient communication device?

I’d never know because unfortunately they haven’t created the immortality pill yet so I have about sixty winters left if I manage to live an average human life… Maybe I’d end up taking over the store and being the creepy old lady that is overly enthusiastic about paintings of grumpy cat and obsesses over harry potter fanfiction.

“Uh…” I was so lost in my own mind that my mouth forgot how to speak. “I-yes?”

The man was quiet for a moment before he slapped me on the back and stirred me to the chair.

“Well lassie! This is the perfect way to get yourself out there, a lot of young people think wasting the summer being delinquents is the best way to pass the time.”

It was, it really was.

“But us honest folk value hard work to complete the days.”

He grinned at me, surprisingly he still had all his teeth, though I could only make out the tips of them, his whiskery beard seemed to be eating his face.

“Mhm, I’m so _excited_.” Was how I was meant to say it.

“I’m very excited for the opportunity.” Was how my stupidly ‘polite around adults’ brain said it.

The man dug in the small draw beside the desk and pulled out a wad of paper, as thick as any paper back.

“A nice polite girl, that’s exactly what this place needs. God knows the ruckus we get here is enough to drive an old man mad.”

I couldn’t imagine anyone coming and causing a ruckus, the place was so bare I could see tumbles of dust trailing along the floor.

“Will it just be me here?” I asked looking at the papers.

It was a manual of everything I would ever need to know about working there titled. “Antiques and their ticks.”

At that point I was kinda too bored to even consider turning the front page, I didn’t need to know about this stuff only how to sell it.

“We have another worker, Leo. But he’s on the nightshifts.”

“Nightshifts?” I blurted out before I could censor my thoughts, “What kind of antiques shop has a nightshift? You some all hour’s secret trader?”

Inwardly I cringed at myself but the words were out there now and no matter how much my cheeks flushed and my hands glittered I was stuck with the question.”

“Imagination is something so few possess anymore.” The old man chuckled. “I admire your humour but Leo is here as a security guard. Sometimes, things go missing or end up smashed. I don’t want to lose anything I could sell.”


End file.
